


Unleashed Melody

by Lady_Michiru



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Introspection, M/M, PWP, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-14
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-01 22:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Michiru/pseuds/Lady_Michiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s all about delicate balance and compromise between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unleashed Melody

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother language; if you spot a mistake, please point it out for me? :D

Sometimes, Ueda is so filled up with darkness that it scares him. Not enough to run away, never; but it does make him fear. For Ueda. Profoundly.

It is not an entirely rare occurrence and that's the heaviest weight upon Nakamaru's heart every time: He is not enough; he can’t keep the shadows away. Those shadows that consume him and, this time, drip from his fingers spilling themselves in the shape of crumbling, almost violent, notes over the piano of the vocal training room they hardly visit with educational purposes anymore.

He watches him from the threshold of the door, painfully drinking the scene displayed before his eyes: Beautiful and tortured, a fallen angel bleeding into music, as utterly splendid and terrible as his own nature, drenched in barely controlled chaos, hostility, affliction, and thousands of other sharp edged feelings, sneaking treacherously upon him, attacking him. Ah... the compulsive need of wrapping up his soul, his life, his very being, into cold white snow and ease his pain... the useless foolish desire to take him in his arms and heal him.

Nakamaru’s brow hurts -too much frowning during too much time-, lost in the trance that is Ueda. Finally, when the sound stops and the almost silence has stretched into a whole minute he blinks quickly a couple of times and clears his throat.

Ueda doesn’t even startle. He just drags his lost stare from the piano (or his feet, Nakamaru can’t really tell because of the angle) to Nakamaru, twisting his body on the bench till he is facing him; and his eyes are twin pools, full of overlapped feelings. There is a thick kind of desire burning quietly behind his pupils and something else, something strange, both unfathomable and disturbingly familiar at once, the kind of opacity that covers his eyes when something doesn’t quite fit into his Universe because of Maru or any other given factor; most of the time because of Maru.

As he walks towards Ueda, Nakamaru braces himself for what's to come. Or at the very least tries to.

He gets there and Ueda doesn’t react when he hugs him, because this time his arms are not what he needs. Maru finds himself swiftly pushed down to the floor, on his knees and with his elbows resting over Ueda's legs, not quite sure of where on his thighs is he supposed to put his hands on. He doesn’t have time to decide it, can’t even overcome the shock.

When Ueda’s lips fall desperately upon his, one of his hands holding his face in place while the fingers of the other one dig themselves forcefully into his short hair, the first embarrassing thought that comes to his mind is that he didn't locked up the door. The uneasiness doesn't go away: Just as every one of his worries it is persistent, insoluble... and completely irrelevant for Ueda. He does not try to communicate it, Ueda probably knows about it. He probably even prefers it that way.

Even through the constant paranoia of the threat, Nakamaru begins to let go and surrender in spite of himself. It is difficult not to let Ueda embrace him, intoxicate him with his peculiar softness always crowned by a bit of pain, impossible to fight him when he bits his lips and thrust his tongue into his mouth, always at the edge always trying to provoke him. Without ever giving him enough and always giving him too much.

Nakamaru’s hands seem to understand it better than the rest of him: Finally laid down at each side of Ueda’s thighs, the tip of his long fingers begin playing a soft spiraling rhythm that his thumbs imitate, barely brushing his hipbone. He can feel Ueda responding to the movement with his own fingers at the nape of his neck, how they begin drawing the same pattern while the hand before posed in his cheek lowers itself slowly towards Nakamaru’s neck, quietly, demurely and then digging; first fingernails and pressure, then unbearable softness that is almost contactless. A long repressed sigh escapes from Nakamaru’s lips and Ueda stops kissing him, waiting till Maru opens his eyes.

The mere vision of the fierce look in his eyes ignited by passion would be enough to make Nakamaru react, but in addition to his somewhat swollen lips, a little bruised by his violent kiss, and Ueda's labored breathing that borders on panting, it’s effectively too much. Self-consciousness invades him, triggered by his own body reaction towards Ueda, well aware that he can lose control and frightened to do so. They are in a public place, the door is unlocked and everything can go right to hell because of their carelessness.

It is an unconscious act, a reflex, but Nakamaru’s body tenses and he backs away.

“No”, whispers Ueda, an almost inaudible gasp, half a warning half a plea.

Nakamaru looks into his eyes again (he doesn’t honestly know when he glanced away), and every emotion once in them hasn't but intensified, the need in them hasn't but deepened. Ueda’s hands, a while ago posed on his head and his neck, are now clutching urgently at the collar of Nakamaru’s shirt and holding him against him forcefully, almost desperately, showing him by action what he should know better by experience: There is no possible escape .

Reality becomes a tangled web of kisses, heated touches, unstable balances and clumsy, jerky movements. Nakamaru’s religiously closed eyes don't quite add to the overall coordination, but he lets himself get lifted, guided; he goes along. He obeys.

He feels Ueda’s body flush against his, warmth on warmth on warmth... so much that his cheeks ignite and burn. It always comes as a surprise for him, the way his whole being catches on fire with so little effort when it is about Ueda, how his sole existence seems destined to please him. Oftentimes the feeling is so overwhelmingly huge, his throat closes and he can't get the emotion past it. Overrated words get stuck on his chest, unpronounced by both of them, but the bond than binds them it’s forged by fire, and they both pray the other one knows, implicitly.

Nakamaru steps forward then, because the need in him has reached that improbable point where precaution is a ridiculous idea slipping away to the bottom of his thoughts. He presses on between Ueda’s thighs, and Ueda feels his body getting pushed up and backwards. The keys on the piano protest with a deafening noise when Ueda uses them for steady himself, striking them without purpose or direction this time, just in the verge of losing balance.

Ueda let go of Maru’s lips to moan softly into his ear, a perfect contrast with the vibrating cacophony of the piano. Sound over sound, Maru just closes his eyes and drives forward, the need for friction of any kind taking over his whole mind, becoming his priority. The piano seems to grumble, panicked, when Ueda responds, but he manages to close the lid skillfully over the keys, even managing to not catch his fingers in the process. Ueda then leans backwards on the instrument, making Nakamaru stumble, and thus making one of his movements longer, deeper, effectively ripping a low groan out of him, that he muffles by biting his own forearm resting over Ueda’s shoulder.

Nakamaru hates marking Ueda’s body in any way, loathes the mere idea of inflicting him with any kind of pain. It is inconvenient, at the very least, because that’s precisely what Ueda aims for. And that’s something that Maru has never been able to understand.

This time it is, of course, a tug of war too: Ueda using every dirty trick in his broad repertoire to awake his most basic instincts while Nakamaru tries hanging on for dear life to the iron control he has over his body. It is also, of course, a hopeless battle.

After all of this time, Ueda knows his weaknesses thoroughly. All of them.

Ueda knows when to kiss and where to touch, and he knows when he has to break contact. He knows the exact amount of pressure in his caress that will leave him hungry for more. Ueda knows how to bite, how to pinch, how to move his body and his hands and how to make it not enough, never enough. He knows what the helpless gasp that Nakamaru can't contain means when the ghostly brush of one of his hands purposely avoids the area he needs it in the most, over and over. Ueda knows surrender is just around the corner.

Nakamaru groans in defeat when the need becomes urgency and the world loses a little of its focus. And he would very much like to have some little degree of control over his own actions when his hand grabs firmly one of Ueda’s thighs to anchor himself to him while his movements get harder and brisker, and friction makes him squeeze his eyes cruelly because of the long awaited contact. The strangled sigh from the base of Ueda’s throat is of perfect approval and, in spite of Nakamaru himself, only fuels the fire already burning in him.

He tries to kiss Ueda’s neck, vibrating with pleasure, but Ueda leans back swiftly, preventing him from doing so. Maru sighs in frustration; he knows the game and doesn’t like it. He knows he can’t possibly win.

He tries, oh yes, he does. He tries to kiss Ueda delicately, lower the intensity of the moment, calm down and calm *him* down, but every time Ueda moves out of reach, somehow managing to keep up his calculated, barely-there provocations.

It is torture, it’s exasperating, and it drives him helplessly into the darkness he dreads. Spiraling down. The heat turns unbearable in his veins, in the blood pooled in the nether regions if his body, it sings in the erratic pulse between his legs blinding him bit by bit, hoarding him into urgency, desire, into the raw need for any kind of attention.

And Nakamaru knows that there is only one way out, as much as he hates it; as much as he fears it.

He threads one of his hands in Ueda’s hair in a way that can’t be deemed delicate, not even considerate. The fingers of his other hand latch onto the top of Ueda’s thigh, pressing outward, up and backward; and his body presses forward again, again, again... deeper, harder. Defeat, abandonment and frenzy. The pressure over Nakamaru’s own body is at a time relief and pain. And fear, because the need does nothing but grow.

His mouth finds Ueda’s neck again, but this time he can’t escape and his delighted gasp trembles in Nakamaru's ear as Nakamaru’s lips and tongue travel across the sensitive skin till they reach the curve to his shoulder.

Ueda tilts his head backwards and presses Nakamaru’s head into his soft and inviting white skin, his other hand grabs Nakamaru’s arm painfully, digging his nails in his forearm. With half a moan that sounds too much like a chuckle, Ueda drags one of his legs up, till it kind of wraps around Nakamaru’s waist and pushes his hips in time with Nakamaru’s movements, just once and it’s too much. With a helpless groan, Nakamaru gives up and, finally, bites Ueda’s shoulder forcefully, barely managing to do so through the fabric of his T-shirt.

The sound that leaves Ueda’s lips could perfectly be a purr. Impossibly, his whole body clings even tighter to Nakamaru’s and the friction becomes too much too quickly, for both of them.

Ueda’s hand on Nakamaru’s forearm slithers stealthily toward his shoulder, pushing him slightly away, surprising him. Nakamaru looks into Ueda's clouded feverish eyes, reading the silent plead in them. ‘Love me... hate me...’ he has never really known for sure... probably both.

It worries him, makes him wish he had a second to clear his head, to try to explain...

“Tatsuya.... stop...”

Too late. Ueda’s hand, after a fast motion, is palming his hardness through his pants, fondling him without subtlety and erasing any thought in his mind, at least for now.

Nakamaru’s body reacts on his own rocking to the rhythm Ueda imposes, and he closes his eyes to survive the surge of sensation that assaults him. He's not really there when Ueda’s other hand leaves his head to work on his belt buckle, neither when he unbuckles it with something akin to mastery and then moves on to unfasten his pants. Maru only startles when Ueda’s fingers slip under the fabric of his underwear and grab him, wrapping his hand firmly around him and driving him mad.

Every shred of sanity left in his mind screams desperately for him to cool down, tells him that’s enough. The instant before he can comply, though, Ueda bends a little up and thoroughly licks Nakamaru’s neck, uses his thick lips to suck tenderly the skin between them. And Nakamaru can’t stop.

For a while he drowns his moans kissing sloppily Ueda’s mouth. His frenzied hands roam his body searchingly, needing a voiced response from Ueda to his dreaded loss of control.

There is only one way.

Nakamaru’s nails are short, but they dig marvelously through Ueda’s T-shirt and underneath it, into his skin, making Ueda sigh and moan, move trying to rub against the back of his own hand. When Nakamaru’s teeth scrape reluctantly the skin behind his ear, the urgency seems to boil in Ueda's body, reaching the breaking point.

“Yuichi... ahhhh...” Ueda clamps his eyes shut, tensing all of his body and Nakamaru knows he is enjoying the stage of the game in which every ounce of control staggers. “Yuichi... please... I need... need you... now...”

The idea of saying ‘no’ does cross Maru's mind, fleetingly; but this far into things he has to accept is hopeless. He’s beyond the point of no return, as it usually is the case.

The brief separation from Ueda’s body feels icy, cooling Nakamaru's body but not the emotions that burn deep within him.

He curses every second that he spends reaching for Ueda’s rucksack that’s in the piano’s bench, now pushed away some feet over; he curses his lack of will and the easy, effortless way Ueda always has of bringing him to this point without even trying that hard to. He damns his own weakness and the excruciating need ripping him from within, craving for release in any way possible.

The stuff he looks for is, of course, in the rucksack, easily accessible. Ueda believes in being prepared and exactly one half of Nakamaru’s being sings out in ecstasy because of it. The other half is too deep into self-loathing and can’t rejoice.

He removes the bench completely after replacing the rucksack on it, creating clearance enough to maneuver, and poses his eyes again over Ueda. A panting Ueda, supporting himself over both of his elbows on the piano, slightly leaning backward and looking at him intently, intensely aware of every one of Nakamaru’s movements. His expression is unfathomable. The fire behind his eyes is not.

Nakamaru steps forward, with a slowness that does nothing for clearing his mind and just makes Ueda visibly anxious. He leaves condoms and lube over the piano and distracts Ueda with a bruising kiss while his fingers unbuckle his belt and unfasten Ueda’s khakis, before taking a firm grip of his hips. Maru the steps back a little and Ueda looks startled for a heartbeat, until the exact second he is taken over and turned expertly, with one swift movement, and left facing the piano.

Surprise is enough to knock the wind out of his lungs almost completely and Ueda is barely capable of steady himself over the wood that covers the piano keys to not fall, arching his shoulders and trying to catch his breath. Maru, on the other hand, is relentless. He steps back a little more and pulls Ueda’s hips towards himself, making the instrument he is bending over protest soundly and his balance stagger; Ueda just breathlessly half-smiles and waits.

Nakamaru’s body presses into his back, coercing Ueda into rubbing against him instinctively, but Maru stops him. Ueda hears him reach blindly for something beside him and understands; he keeps still, prepares for what’s to come, and his heart beats so out of control Maru can feel it’s vibration in his own chest.

Some seconds and familiar sounds later, Ueda’s khakis and underwear are no longer an obstacle and Nakamaru’s fingers almost find their way into him, but his actions are so nerve-rackingly slow that Ueda grips the piano’s wood to push backwards. Nakamaru has other plans, nonetheless, because two can play the same game and, from now on, things will get done *his* way.

“Shhhhh.... easy...” he whispers, resting his free hand on Ueda’s lower back.

Ueda’s body trembles almost shaking, Nakamaru notices, and presses his hand down with tenderness, knowing that he can’t quite calm him completely down but striving for ease him up. He caresses his skin softly, pretending they have time for luxuries like these.

Kindness. Care. Maru’s movements are delicate and slow, blended with kisses in the spots of Ueda’s back he can reach without breaking the subtle rhythm his fingers have created within his body. Nakamaru is a sweet melody making its way through the air and Ueda closes his eyes and sighs.

A little flushed, Ueda unbends a bit, making Nakamaru lose his pace and almost lose his balance, but he just smiles in understanding, lowers himself so he can kiss Ueda’s lips as he wants him to. It’s a sloppy and wet kiss, but they cling to it long enough for it to take their breath away, again. By reflex Nakamaru’s wrist moves in a crooked deeper twist, the sudden pleasure shooting visibly through all of Ueda’s body and making him moan compulsively.

There are certain regions of Nakamaru’s body that react fantastically to the sound and his vision blurs a little with the wave of pure want that hits him. He breathes deeply once, two times, trying to steady himself so his voice won’t sound too embarrassingly quivery when he speaks.

“Tat... Tatsuya....” he falters, failing miserably. And, for some reason, it doesn’t matter at all. “Ready?”

Ueda can just precariously answer by nodding, but Nakamaru gets it. Ueda tilts his head and looks at Maru right in the eye and the sheer intensity of the moment makes Nakamaru’s heart miss a beat. Because, maybe, in the universe of uncertainties the sea of his ever-changing mood sometimes become, maybe Ueda does feel that overwhelming need to tie himself to the feeling that binds them, to rest in the solid ground of what they share. Because, sometimes, Nakamaru dares suspecting the blinding shine in Ueda’s eyes is indeed love; and there are other times, times like this one, in which thinking otherwise would be a sacrilege.

Ueda’s eyes close, keeping him from reading the emotions displayed on them, but there are other clues, little details that make his heart swell and everything seem worth it.

Ueda’s clenching hands scrap faintly the piano’s lacquer till he feels Nakamaru’s smile in the sigh behind him.

“Look at me, Tatsuya”, asks Nakamaru, with a gently demanding voice that gives no room for refusal.

In the following silence, Nakamaru prays for Ueda to know that he knows, that he understands or simply doesn’t care that there are no love words said between them when space itself is filled up with soft places and velvety feelings.

“It’s alright”, Nakamaru says next, and it could be a question but they both know it's an answer.

The needy little sound Ueda breathes out makes Nakamaru chuckle softly and he leans over to quickly kiss his cheek before finally gripping his hip with one of his hands and guiding himself with the other while he inches forward, entering him slowly, slowly, slowly... and Ueda bit his lower lip in what he knows is an attempt to stand still, to not thrust his hips backward and end the agony that borders on delight.

Then Nakamaru’s now free hand grabs Ueda’s shoulder to keep his balance while he bends forward, till his chest is flush with Ueda's back; and is fabric against fabric, but his heat soaks through into his very bones, ignoring all barriers.

He buries his face into the nape of Ueda’s neck to give him time to adjust, all the while feeling Ueda’s pulse beating around him. It is a weird feeling and he could almost feel embarrassed at the elation it causes him, at the raw feeling of perfection he gets from it and nothing else in his entire existence.

He is patient, he can be calm and in control. He can do this and he will do it right. The only giveaway of his heated state is the blood pulsating wildly in his veins and the sweat that beads his forehead. He could wait hours for a sign from Ueda if it was necessary, without ever showing any evidence of discomfort or trouble.

Ueda moves his hips tentatively, smiling when he feels the inarticulate moan Nakamaru hides against the nape of his neck. With his palms spread out for balance on the piano, Ueda thrust firmly backward and Maru reacts. Now with both of his hands in his hips, deeply and slowly he finds his rhythm, they find their rhythm, turning selflessness into frenzy thrust after thrust, passion threatening to reach its peak with a speed that overwhelms Nakamaru, that scares him.

He tries to calm down once more and in spite of the seemingly impossibility of the task, he manages to do so, to recover a little control and slow down a bit. He takes a deep breath, striving for unravel all of his sensorial receptors from the firm grip Ueda’s body has over them, from the need, the warmth, the heat and the pure gravity that pulls him over and drives him in, that makes him ache for more. He needs it closer, faster, deeper, and grits his teeth to not give into it.

“Yuichi...” Ueda’s voice and movements shatter his restraint with artistic precision, while his left hand takes Nakamaru’s left hand and guides it unabashedly from his hip towards the throbbing pulse between his legs where he needs it right now. “Enough... I’m not made... of glass.”

‘No, you're not made of glass... you are even more fragile than that’, the thought echoes in Nakamaru’s mind and in his mind alone, knowing he would probably get kicked somewhere that hurts and punched to prove him wrong if he ever gets to verbalize it.

Nevertheless, for him it’s true. Not Ueda’s body, of course –the feeling of lean strong muscles behind his palms is enough to prove him that-, not even his skin, though he can already see some marking where his fingers dig, too harshly for his taste, into one of Ueda’s hips. No, it is the vulnerability of his soul which Nakamaru treasures ardently, is Ueda’s very life he wishes to guard like something precious. He dreads damaging him by some selfish or careless action. Nakamaru wants to protect him; even from himself.

It’s useless, of course. Nakamaru’s hand moving along with Ueda’s have a rhythm of their own and the speed takes over his body again. Ueda’s approving gasp seals Nakamaru’s defeat and he lets himself finally yield to the inevitable. Losing the game might imply win in other areas, he decides, when Ueda’s lips reach out for his with impatience.

Almost completely tangled in the imminent threat of release, Nakamaru is aware of Ueda’s shaky dance on the brink of ecstasy, aware that he needs more. With his eyes wide shut, going against everything he believes in, he gives in and tugs Ueda’s T-shirt up almost all the way off him, surrendering to Ueda's needs. The last strangled minutes mix themselves imprecisely amid fingernails wildly scratching skin, relentless pressure, harsh strength and Nakamaru’s teeth imprinting clear traces of his unleashed passion upon the smooth skin of Ueda’s back and neck. The heat blurs the guilt, turns it into rapture to the beat of the spiraling down chaos of hips pounding into hips. Deeper, harder, clearer than life and bigger than pain. Even if he can’t put it into words, his body sings it loudly, screams it out. ‘I love you, so, so, so much... so much...’

Among silence charged with half-muffled moans and groans, the fire engulfs them. A hiss and a brisk spasm later, Ueda comes into his hand and Nakamaru loses it. His iron grip on Ueda’s hip becomes fiercer and it’s only a few sharp thrusts later that he reaches his climax buried deeply into him, groaning helplessly while biting his shoulder.

In the short empty minutes that come afterwards, Nakamaru holds tightly onto Ueda’s waist. The urgency now overcome, Nakamaru feels only peace. He convinces himself that they will have time for tenderness and romance, later. He sighs and brushes a butterfly kiss on an ugly mark between Ueda’s shoulder blades that’s quickly turning into a bruise, shakes his head trying to clear it from the self-reproaching thoughts that suddenly crowd it. He will have things done his way, really his way, softly and gently, when they get home.

Eventually, they find the will to move again, to tidy things up a little, fix the mess in the room and themselves, their hair and clothes. It takes time in silence and some energy they no longer quite have, but at last the room and both of them get to look near presentable again. When they finally collapse, sitting on the floor side by side, their shoulders touching and them not looking at each other, is Ueda who reaches out and takes Nakamaru’s hand, threading his fingers into his.

“What happened this time?” Nakamaru ask carefully, still not looking at him.

“Nothing...” Ueda simply answers, tired and smiling in spite of himself when he turns his head in Nakamaru’s direction. “The solo... everything…”

It probably means today is one of those days when notes and rhymes simply won't cooperate, and Maru feels extremely relieved of not being the cause of the dissipated cloud of darkness this once. With time, he has learnt that to awake Ueda’s wrath is as easy as breathing. But Ueda smiles at him and just with that the world turns into a warm bright place, and everything is simply alright again.

“Let’s go", Nakamaru invites, softly pulling at his hand, getting up and getting him up. “Home...”

Ueda gets lazily up, but his whole body is beaming. Without warning, Ueda yanks Nakamaru’s hand, pulling him towards him and Nakamaru staggers -he keeps forgetting how strong Ueda really has become-, then feels his own waist wrapped into Ueda’s strong arms.

It means ‘thank you’ and it means 'I’m sorry’, and it also means ‘I love you’, all mashed up in a silent gesture. Between them, words are nothing but a nuisance.

Sometimes, Ueda is so filled up with darkness that it scares him. But sometimes... sometimes Ueda is the light.


End file.
